


(Not So) Fake Dating

by MrsRen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fake Dating, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Prompt: Mistletoe, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21513970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/pseuds/MrsRen
Summary: After claiming she'll be bringing a date to Christmas at the Burrow, Hermione finds herself in a bind considering there is no boyfriend. Until Draco insists that he can fill the role. Faking a relationship can't be that hard, can it? After all, they've already got the tension down.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 88
Kudos: 1037
Collections: D/Hr Advent 2019





	(Not So) Fake Dating

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2019 DHr Advent, and my prompt was mistletoe. This event is always such an honor to participate in, so thank you to the organisers, and the readers for nominating me for the second year! I'm thankful for my little village of people on the internet that always encourage me, and pick me up out of the dirt.
> 
> One thing before you read though, Hermione and Draco are not already dating in this story. That was one thing that a prereader was confused about and had to read twice. Draco is pining, and Hermione isn't noticing.
> 
> (Not So) Fake Dating

* * *

The Leaky bustled with activity, the normal for a Friday night, and Hermione pushed her way through the crowd. She waved to Tom, earning one in return as he pointed a finger toward a table near the back. As she neared it, she unwrapped her scarf from around her neck.

Harry and Ron were already well on their way to drinking themselves into a drunken stupor. It wasn't new. Across from them, Draco drained the rest of his glass while nodding in her direction. Even now, with several years between the end of the war and them, it always surprised her how casual they looked together. Or, she thought wryly, as casual as Malfoy could look at any given time.

"You made it!" Harry rose from his chair, the legs screeching against the floor. He threw an arm around her, fingers messying her already wild hair, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Malfoy was betting you'd still be in your office by the time we left."

Draco raised his hands in mock surrender, leaning back in his chair. She slid into the one beside him, and sat her handbag at her feet. "Well," Hermione began. "I probably would have been if it weren't for Percy stopping by my office. You know how I can't stand the man." It was harsh, she was aware, but Percy Weasley had been a thorn in her side since she entered the Ministry, and she didn't care for the _advice_ he was so intent on giving her. "Enough about that. How was your day?"

Harry explained that he and Ron would be gone on a mission for the next week, using several hand motions that weren't necessary. "We'll miss our normal meetup on Saturday," Harry added, his features apologetic.

Ron cut him off. "But we'll be back in time for Christmas Eve. You're still coming to the Burrow, right? Mum wants a full headcount so she knows how many to cook for."

"She'll just end up cooking for double whatever number she gets," Draco said, tipping his glass to his lips. His eyes drifted to her as her knee slammed against the underside of the table. "Alright there, Granger?"

She swallowed. "Fine."

"Hermione?" Ron repeated. "Christmas Eve?"

Forcing a nod while hoping it didn't appear forced, Hermione agreed even as every part of her raged against her. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

"I told her that, but she nagged me to ask. Are you bringing a date?"

A hand settled on her knee before she knocked it against the table again, and her eyes flicked to Draco. His lips were pressed into a thin line, but his eyes shone with amusement. "I—um, yes. I'll have a date."

Silence fell over the table.

"You will?" Did Harry have to sound _so_ surprised?

Ron's lips parted. She could tell exactly what he was thinking, even if he didn't open his mouth. And if she was lucky, he wouldn't say anything at all. Obviously he'd asked the question expecting one answer, and she'd given him the opposite. "Who?"

Fingers flexed against her skin, preventing yet another knee jerk reaction. "I don't want to say." Hermione answered, sure to keep her voice steady even as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. "We've kept things secret for a while now is all."

"You—"

"She said she didn't want to answer, Weasley." Draco snapped. "Leave her alone."

His eyebrows shot up, and Ron shook his head. "I need to go anyway. I promised Lavender I'd meet her before I left for a week." He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, and left without an additional goodbye.

Harry quickly followed, and she knew it was because Ginny was waiting at home, six months pregnant and not always fond of their weekly tradition.

Only she and Malfoy remained. Still seated right next to the other, with his hand _still_ flush and warm against her knee, Hermione gulped. "How obvious was I?" The question was barely there.

His hand fell, and she missed the warmth that went with it. "Not at all, if you're going for just convincing them." He muttered. "I certainly don't believe you though, and neither will a hoard of Weasleys that are sure to take a keen interest in your love life."

Hermione laid her head on her arms, crossed against the table. "Fuck." She mumbled. "I don't know why I did that. Merlin, I'm such an idiot."

The glass in his hand met the table with a thud and she heard sloshing liquid as it was refilled. "Normally, I would agree, but I'm not certain that's the case this time."

"Thanks." She hissed, kicking him under the table. "It's just—oh, nevermind, I won't bore you with it. It's not as if you care to listen anyway." Hermione lifted her head, raking her fingers through her hair.

His stare hardened. "I wouldn't say I don't care. We're friends."

Hermione scoffed. "You tolerate me."

"No," he shook his finger. "I tolerate Weasley. That enough puts you on a higher level than him. Do keep up, Granger."

That wasn't true, however, and they both knew it. Ron and Draco got along better than anyone could have expected. Hermione only arched an eyebrow, daring him to continue the sentence. "Fine, you like me enough, but that doesn't mean I'm going to host you as an audience for my mental breakdown."

Draco swallowed another mouthful of amber liquid and shrugged. "Fine. I won't beg you."

Curling her fingers in her hair until her nails scraped against her scalp. Minutes passed, accompanied by the faint _tick-tock_ of a grandfather clock on the far end of the pub. When she glanced his way, Hermione found him tapping his fingers against his glass.

He expected her to cave and tell him all about it.

And she would have been angry about it, but it was hard to be considering he was right. Rubbing her forehead irritatedly, Hermione blew out a breath. "Fine, you want to know?"

One pale brow lifted. "If you're inclined to tell me."

Rocking back in her chair, Hermione watched him steady a hand at the back of it so she wouldn't tip backward. "I don't _want_ to go to Weasley Christmas. It's not that I dislike them. It's always a merry good time, but who wants to be at their ex-boyfriend's Christmas party without a date?'

He choked, spewing liquid back into his glass and Draco pushed it away from them. "That's what this is about, that you don't have a date?"

Fixing her lips into a scowl, Hermione continued, "I didn't have a date last year, but neither did Ron. Don't you understand?" When no answer came, she sighed. Perhaps it was all in her head after all. "It bothers me that others will wonder why he's moved on, but I haven't."

"You're not ready," Malfoy said, his tone reserved.

"I'm plenty ready." Hermione sniffed. "It's just that every wizard I go out with happens to not hold my attention."

"Then you're unlucky."

Her eyes narrowed, and Malfoy dragged his hand back away from the rear of her chair, fingers brushing against the bottom of her back. "Then they'll wonder why I'm so unlucky."

"Who bloody cares?" He snapped, wincing seemingly at his own harshness. "Granger, you're leagues above Weasley. How he ever managed to date you for over a year is beyond me—"

"Ron has plenty of likeable traits," Hermione defended. "He's funny, and caring, just not—" she swallowed "not compatible with me. I've heard Molly whisper in the kitchen that _I_ was the problem, that I'm too difficult to be with, too much—"

Malfoy gripped her chin suddenly, the legs of his chair screeching as he slid closer to her, and she knew it must have drawn at least a bit of attention. "Molly is full of it." He said, and didn't let her move. "And you're rambling, by the way, so you're welcome for cutting your embarrassing monologue short."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "You can let go, Malfoy."

He shook his head. "Not until you listen to reason. The reason you broke up with Weasley was valid. You're not compatible, not to say that he's a bad bloke—Merlin, I can't believe I'm the one saying that. Sure, you're difficult—"

"Aren't you meant to be making me feel better?"

He smirked, thumb brushing across her chin, and her fingers curled around the seat of her chair as she fought off the urge to fidget under his touch. "You're difficult for all the right reasons. Any wizard that thinks otherwise is just threatened by you. _And,_ you're not too much to deal with, not for the right one anyway."

"That's—"

"Rational?"

"I was going to say whimsical, even romantic." Hermione blinked, missing the feel of his fingers as they dropped from her. "It shouldn't bother me, I know that." She insisted. "Normally it doesn't, but it's Christmas and I—" Breaking off, she contemplated rising from her seat and not breathing another word, but she didn't. "Everyone thinks I want to be alone, but I don't."

Grey lightened, and she gulped.

"I don't like it. I want to be with someone, and this just serves as a reminder that I don't."

"Granger,"

She sucked in a breath as the gravity of the situation comically crashed down on her shoulders, and the pub felt instantaneously smaller. "Ron is expecting me to have a fucking _date_."

"Yes," Malfoy nodded. "You did tell him you'd been seeing someone for a while now. He's not likely to forget that."

Hermione rose from her seat, snatching her coat and handbag. "I have to go and find a way out of this mess. Thanks for... whatever this was, Malfoy." Hermione spun on her heel, throwing her coat over her shoulders while clutching her bag closer to her chest by the leather strap.

Chilly December air hit her face as she stepped into the street, and she turned to the right.

"Granger!" Hurried footsteps met the cobblestones as he raced after her, and she didn't have the chance to avoid him as pale, slender fingers closed around her shoulder. "What are you doing?" It was such a normal question, and it didn't fit the situation at hand.

"I'm going to go to my office and schedule a meeting that takes me out of the country for Christmas." She mumbled, her breath showing in the air, trapped between them as he took a step closer to her. "They can't ask me anything if—"

He laughed under his breath, bending forward with his hands tucked in his pockets. "You can get a date, Granger. You're an eligible witch."

She scoffed. "I don't exactly have a line of wizards that fit the requirements, you know."

"What are the requirements?"

Throwing her hands in the air, Hermione had never wanted to throttle him more. "Someone funny? Intelligent enough to keep up with me and debate with me. Attractive?" Each word that came from her mouth sounded more ridiculous than the last.

Giving a slight dip of his head, Draco squared his shoulders. "I'll do it."

"You'll _what_?"

"I'll be your date, of course."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "That's not—we're not—they'll never believe it!"

"Oh, they absolutely will. Who else would you hide from them?"

"You're friends with them both."

"I think we both know they probably wouldn't agree to the two of us dating," Draco said, waving a hand between the two of them.

She frowned. "That's none of their business."

"I can debate with you better than anyone else you know."

He wasn't wrong, not in the slightest.

"I'm clever, and funny."

A strangled sound tore free of her.

"See? There's a laugh."

There was another.

"And," he grinned, "I'm devilishly handsome."

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, peering up at him as sleet fell down on them. He wasn't wrong, not at all. "Okay." She whispered. "We'll need to meet to agree on the details. This needs to be believable, or I'll never live it down."

They agreed for Draco to come by her flat on Friday, and Hermione lingered in Diagon even after he'd Apparated away.

* * *

"We can't have been dating since January," Hermione interjected. She sat on her sofa, her back flush against the armrest while her knees were brought toward her chest. "I went on a date with McLaggen on Valentine's Day."

Malfoy's nose crinkled. "Fuck, I remember that. Why did you do that again?"

"Cormac is…" she trailed off. "We have great conversation."

He looked incredulous.

"Fine, he's fit, and it was Valentine's Day. I'm not ashamed of having a one night stand. Moving on, Malfoy. What about March?"

"I took Astoria out to dinner then."

"She's a fucking nightmare," Hermione grumbled. "You got lucky getting out of that arrangement. What did you do to manage that?"

He hid his smile. "I took her on the worst date of her life."

Hermione sniggered. "April?"

"There was that party for George's birthday, and you left with Neville."

"We didn't—"

"I know, but the troublesome twosome isn't necessarily convinced of that. May?"

A reason for why that couldn't work was on the tip of her tongue, but then there wasn't one. "That might work." Hermione leaned forward, crossing her legs. "Did you take anyone to the ball for the memorial?"

He shook his head. "Did you?"

"No, I didn't, and I remember Ron and Harry had to leave early to get to the DMLE. Hypothetically, we could have…"

Draco nodded. "You probably had too many glasses of champagne."

"I'll have you know I handle my booze perfectly fine."

He snorted. "I'm quite aware. So, you were too inebriated to Apparate home, and I was also pissed—"

"Are you saying you took advantage—"

Draco glared at her. "I am suggesting nothing of the sort. It was _you_ who jumped _me_ in the middle of the corridor—"

"I would never!"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not convinced. Have you seen me in a suit?"

So she had. "I snogged you at the Floo," Hermione said quietly, not meeting his gaze. "Maybe I had wanted to for a while, and the opportunity just presented itself."

"And I had noticed you for quite a while before you fell into my lap." Draco rasped. "You probably told me it was a drunken mistake the next morning, and I told you it wasn't while you were draped in my sheets."

It created a visceral image that cut through her and heat bloomed in the pit of her stomach. "I avoided you for weeks after, but there was a party for your birthday a month later."

"I found you afterwards, and we…" He looked to her, expecting her to finish it, and she had no idea what to say.

"I couldn't walk away again." Hermione murmured. "We decided we liked our privacy more than worrying about the reactions of our friends, and the press. The Daily Prophet would have latched onto this."

Draco's fingers dug into the cushion. "Well, that's settled then."

"Perfect." Her mouth was dry.

"There's one other thing though."

Hermione lifted her head.

"They'll expect us to kiss. Both of them are exactly the type to do that." Draco explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "We should get the awkward, first time of that out of the way."

It was logical, but that's not the only reason Hermione slid across the sofa. She didn't look so desirable, she thought, in her joggers and an oversized top. "We want it to believable." Hermione sighed, tilting her face up.

His hand slid up her arm, her shoulder until his fingers closed around the back of her neck and he tilted her head up. "It's only practice." Draco murmured, and his lips pressed to hers. Fingers closed at the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair, and she pushed herself closer to him.

Tracing the seam of her lips with his tongue, Draco pulled her completely into his lap. It carried on several moments longer than it needed to, only ending when she fisted her hands in the front of his shirt.

She couldn't meet his eyes as they parted. "We certainly won't need any practice." Draco said raggedly, his hands lingering on her hips.

* * *

He met her at her flat, coming through the Floo dressed impeccably as a wry smile twisted his lips. But that didn't matter now.

The Burrow was well lit, and they hovered outside on the stoop as she looked at him. "Are you sure about this? I can live with the embarrassment of—"

Draco traced her pulse of the inside of her wrist, shaking his head. "It's fine, Granger. We already did all the work, it would be a shame to not put it to use."

 _Work_ consisted of role-playing a scenario where they'd fallen in love—which had left her more bothered than she cared to admit—and snogging for several moments too long on her sofa. Hermione lifted her head, pursing her lips together. "Alright."

As she settled her palm against the door, he tugged her backward. "I haven't told you," Draco's breath crept along her ear, his lips brushing the lobe. "You look fantastic."

Her toes curled in her heels. "Thank you. So do you, but you already know that."

His thumb slid along her bottom lip absently. "I do, but there's something different about hearing it from you. You should wear lipstick more often."

She couldn't breathe. He had been all she could think about since they'd been in the pub. Hermione trapped her lower lip between her teeth, biting back the comment that she'd worn lipstick _for_ him. Not to make their lie more believable, not to look her best—though she did—but in hopes to capture his attention.

Draco spoke again as she realised that she _hadn't_. "Do you think it will smudge if I kiss you?" He leaned toward her, and she stretched up.

Even if heels, she couldn't match his height fully. "The packaging says it's not supposed to. It's a charm." She explained breathlessly.

The corner of his lips quirked. "Care to test that?"

_Yes._

Sliding her palms up his chest, lightly gripping the lapels of his jacket, Hermione chose to forget that it was supposed to be a lie. Nothing about this was _fake._ There was no one around to see it. "Draco?"

He cradled her face, lowering his lips to hers—

The front door banged open, revealing a frazzled Molly with Ron just behind her as he nursed a glass of spiked punch. "Oh, my,"

As Hermione moved to spring away from Draco, he held her closer in their compromising position. "Molly, lovely to see you as always." He greeted, and fingers stroked down her back. "Weasley, there's punch dripping down your," Draco pointed.

"What the fuck?" Ron garbled. "The bloke you've been seeing is Malfoy?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't say it like that, Ron. We're not in Hogwarts anymore."

His eyes were still wide, she wasn't entirely sure of which emotion it was etched into her best friend's face. "But Malfoy?"

"Come in, dears." Molly stepped aside.

Draco led her with a hand at the small of her back, and several heads turned toward them. "Yes, me."

For good measure, Hermione turned into the curve of him, stretching up to kiss his cheek. "I'm happy, Ronald. This is why I didn't tell you." Lights twinkled around them, muggle string lights that Arthur had found last year. "I knew you would react badly."

"It's not that," He stammered. "It just—" Ron's voice dropped to a whisper. "We're not compatible, but you and Malfoy are?" It was an odd thing to say given Lavender was no doubt near them, and it sounded oddly like Ron—

The man at her side cleared his throat. "I can assure you, Weasley that Granger and I compatible in _every_ way."

Ron balked. "Right then. Oh, Lav is looking for me, so I'll just go. Enjoy the party."

She glanced up at Draco. "Did you have to imply that?"

"Did you want him to continue questioning us?"

Shrugging, Hermione let it go, desperately trying to ignore the thoughts it brought to life. "Harry's coming this way."

"One down, one to go." Draco murmured.

Hermione broke in the opposite direction, and Harry's brows shot up. "Come on!" She hissed, dragging Draco with her. "I need a drink before I go through that. As oblivious as you think he is, he's not. If anyone is going to figure us out, it's Harry."

They passed George, and Angelina, both staring open-mouthed.

"Running away from him makes you look like a —"

"Coward?" Hermione shot over her shoulder. "That's something I can live with. Firewhisky?" She asked as they entered the kitchen. "I think I'll go with that too."

His eyes widened as she pulled the bottle from the cupboard.

"There's no glasses." Hermione ground out. "Desperate times and all that."

Draco laughed, the sound echoing in the pans over their heads. "Wait, we can just transfigure—"

She uncapped the bottle and took a long drink, not delighted in the even longer burn that slid down her throat. "Want some?" Hermione held out the bottle. "It might be undignified but it gets the job done."

His face darkened, and she tilted her head to the side. "Is he behind me yet?"

She could just make out Harry's hair as he made his way through the crowd. "He's talking to George and Angelina, probably about us, and he's headed this way now."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "We ought to give them something to talk about." Draco pointed up, and she found mistletoe hanging over them. "Tradition."

Hermione's stomach was in knots.

His lips crashed against hers, and the counter dug into the middle of her back as she reached up to tangle her hands in his hair. Tugging roughly just in case it was the only chance she got to snog him again, she slumped against him.

Continuing to hold her up, Draco wedged his knee between her thighs and bit her lower lip. "All fucking teeth, and pulling my hair," he growled.

It was Harry's strangled clearing of his throat that made her remember they had an audience. "Hermione, there are _kids_."

Wiping her mouth, Hermione pulled back. "Mistletoe." She mumbled, pointing over her head. "Tradition, you know?"

Harry snorted. "Next time you want to follow tradition by ripping his clothes off, find an upstairs bedroom."

"I wasn't going to rip his clothes off."

Draco laughed lowly, his eyes still deliciously dark, and his lips bruised. "Potter."

"Malfoy," Harry's eyes narrowed. "How long have you been seeing my best friend?"

Hermione scowled. "I hope you're not trying to pull some sort of 'big brother' talk, Harry. I'm capable of taking care of myself."

Draco traced her back, eliciting shivers as his fingers roamed over her bare skin. "Since May." He answered. "At the memorial gala, and that's all you need to know. Unless," he grinned mischievously, "you want all of the filthy details?"

Her hand connected with his broad chest hard. "Draco!"

Harry shook his head. "I'm good on that. Congrats then." He couldn't get away from them fast enough.

"So," Hermione trailed off. "Do you think we've been convincing enough?"

Draco's fingers skimmed the edge of her dress. "Maybe, but it wouldn't hurt to overdo it, just to be sure."

Her heartbeat was erratic. "We're still under the mistletoe, technically."

His smile widened. "Maybe we should take the mistletoe where there are fewer people?"

* * *

The party had been a success in all the ways that counted. Not a single person had questioned them, but Hermione couldn't fathom why they had snogged outside until someone dared to look for them. It wasn't for the sake of their front, which meant something, but she didn't want to unpack that thought.

However, she did absolutely know that she was in even more trouble now. Draco had always been attractive, but he was her friend, and she'd always thought him off-limits. If she were to say she hadn't considered what it would be like with him, she'd have been lying. But now she _did_ know, and it made everything worse.

Curled up on her sofa with a novel cracked open in her lap, Hermione fidgeted with a loose piece of hair that slipped from her bun. Crooks kneaded her ankles, claws poking only to snag on her socks. "Quit that." Hermione swatted his paws away.

The Floo activated, green smoke escaping in plumes. She closed her book, laying in on the coffee table as she stood. No one she knew would come to her flat at nearly midnight.

Draco stepped out from the fireplace, still wearing his suit, and her eyes widened. His hair was dishevelled, standing on end. "I needed to see you."

Her lips parted, a shallow breath escaping. "Okay, why?"

"After we left the Burrow, I went to a pub with Theo. I drank it."

Hermione stepped around the table, a soft meow sounding from the sofa. "You drank the pub?"

"Feels like it." He said.

She laughed lightly. "Smells like it too."

"Theo dumped his drink on me. Look, that doesn't matter. I need to ask you if I was the only one who wasn't acting tonight."

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath, and her fingers trembled at her sides. "You're pissed, Draco. You have no idea what you're saying—"

"The reason I settled on May as our story was because you _did_ drink too much champagne, and I—" He swallowed, taking a step closer. "I really was going to ask you to dinner that night. I was going to kiss you, if the opportunity presented itself because I thought you wanted that too."

Her nose crinkled. "Why didn't you?"

He stared at the ceiling and laughed without mirth. "By the time Theo told me I needed to stop being a coward, and I found you, you were in the drawing room. You were staring at the floor, and I remembered all of the reasons I can't— _fuck_ , this was a colossal mistake. I'm sorry, Granger. I need to—"

As his lips framed the word, Hermione shot forward. She kissed him clumsily, hands framing his face as they stumbled backward together. "It's not a mistake." She pressed the words to his lips. "I wanted you too."

His arm locked around the middle of his back as he met the wall. "Really?"

"And no, I wasn't acting tonight either." Gripping her hips, he lifted her, coaxing her to wrap her legs around his waist. "Happy Christmas, Draco."

His lips curled into a smirk against hers. "Happy Christmas to me in-fucking-deed."

Stifling a whimper as his hands slid up her sides, she asked quietly, "What do you want for Christmas?"

"You, definitely you."

"Bedroom is the second room on the left." Hermione pushed his jacket from his shoulders, and then made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. "Not that I would have ever told you, I like you in suits."

Kicking open the door to her bedroom, he groaned. "I'll wear a suit every fucking day then." Draco tossed her lightly onto the bed, crawling toward her. Her shirt fell to the floor first, leaving her bare. "Merlin, I'm lucky."

Her bottoms followed.

Draco slid down the curve of her body, dragging her knickers down her legs with his teeth before he flattened his tongue to her folds. Holding her in place by her hips, he didn't tear his eyes from her as she writhed under him.

His name fell away from her like a prayer, and she pressed herself closer to him. "I need you." She mewled, tugging at his hair. "Draco, please." Hermione watching, propped up on her elbows, as he kicked his shoes off and slid his trousers off.

The bed dipped as he hovered over her. Resting in the space her spread legs created, he slid into her with one hard thrust, dragging a long moan from her as she wrapped her legs around him. "Fuck." He scooped her up, resting back on his haunches as he slid into her, setting a quick pace that left her breathless.

Hermione reached for him, kissing him eagerly. "It feels so good." She moaned, burying her face in his shoulder and raking her nails down his back. " _Oh!_ "

His fingers circled her clit, his voice rough in her ear. "You're so fucking pretty like this, flushed and crying out on my cock."

Pressure mounted, and she clung to him. "I'm—"

"Good girl," he growled, slamming into her.

A shriek tumbled away from her that her neighbours couldn't have possibly missed, and her nails created crescent shaped indentations in his skin as her climax crested. He followed, sweat forming on his brow, and they collapsed next to one another. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and she peeked up at him through her lashes.

"Come here," Draco wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I owe Theo thirty galleons."

"You bet on us?"

He sighed. "Not exactly. He bet me that you already had feelings for me, and I told him it wasn't possible. Best thirty galleons I've ever lost."

She laughed quietly. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

"I'm hoping to spend it with you if you'll let me."

Hermione stretched up, the sheets bunched around her waist. "That sounds perfect. Perhaps we'll not even leave my flat, or my bed."

His eyes narrowed. "Dangerous words, Granger."

She straddled him, draping herself over his chest with a satisfied smirk. "Think you can keep up?" Hermione squealed as he flipped them, pressing her into the mattress, proving that he _could._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear what you think. I'll be crossposting to FFN once the advent is complete.


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